


Love's Not a Limited Time Offer

by fingalsanteater



Category: McDonaldland, TV Commercials
Genre: Addiction, Based on a Commercial, Crack Treated Seriously, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:56:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3910375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingalsanteater/pseuds/fingalsanteater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rob Hamburglar is lovin' living the perfect suburban life with his husband and son. </p><p>Based on the 2015 sexy, hipster suburban dad revamp of McDonald's iconic hamburger stealing mascot.  See notes for more detail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love's Not a Limited Time Offer

**Author's Note:**

> After reading the [A.V. Club's](http://www.avclub.com/article/mcdonalds-reverse-declining-sales-more-attractive--219061) article on the new and improved Hamburglar, I just couldn't resist writing ridiculous domestic fluff. You should probably watch the commercial (see the linked article) if you want this fic to make a lick of sense.
> 
> Also, in my mind, Grim looks like [wrestler Kevin Owens](https://41.media.tumblr.com/722a623c861370a1ecea48b45ff6cb1b/tumblr_nkmbwqQuUP1u5ei1co1_500.jpg), but bigger and with more body hair.

Rob burrowed further into the pillow, seeking a few more minutes of that pleasant, barely conscious haze that comes with waking at mid-morning on a lazy Saturday. The sun streamed through the blinds, filling the dark behind his eyelids with bright spots. Rob rolled on his side, curling the sheets around his body with a cozy rustle and tried to avoid the light. Next to him, Grim groaned in sympathy and shifted closer to Rob, neither of them wanting to crawl out of bed just yet, both wanting a few minutes more.  
  
"We'll have to get up eventually." Grim sighed, pulling Rob against his chest and wrapping an arm around his waist.  
  
Pressing his back against Grim, Rob relished the warmth and comfort of his husband's embrace, his hairy arms and chest soft and ticklish against Rob's skin.  
  
"Mmm. Says who?" Rob teased, "Pat probably won't even notice until the internet's cut off. And even then he'd probably just go find some Wi-Fi somewhere"  
  
Grim huffed out a quiet laugh, the puffs of his breath hot against Rob's neck. Peppering soft kisses down Rob's bearded jaw, Grim said, "Maybe. But, Birdie is coming for dinner and you know she'll come looking."  
  
Grim's hand brushed against his bare stomach, slipping down below the waistband of his pajama pants to grip Rob's morning erection.  
  
"That's because we're the only ones who actually feed her. She'd starve without us." He paused to gasp when Grim rubbed his thumb over the pre-come beading from Rob's dick. "Ah, remind me to go to go the store l-later, also." Rob moaned as Grim pressed his own erection against his ass.  
  
"I'll go. Just write me a list."  
  
Rob loved waking up like this-- loved casual chats about grocery shopping and lazy Saturday morning sex with his husband. Their son, Pat, was probably in his room texting with a friend or playing some game and avoiding weekend homework. It was the normal, suburban life Rob always had wanted.  
  
He'd worked hard for this life. Fifteen years ago, Rob was in a dark place, at the height of his addiction and obsession. His friends finally convinced him to get help after he'd been evicted for the fourth time due to pest infestations caused by his hoarding. Twelve years ago, Rob had began attending bi-weekly therapy for his kleptomania and hamburger hoarding addiction. It was slow going at first, but gradually he began to manage his obsession-- the support of his therapist and friends tantamount to his improving mental health.  
  
Rob's friend Grimace, or Grim, as he now preferred, spent so much time helping him through rough patches-- those times when Rob thought he might fall off the proverbial wagon and start stealing and hoarding again. It wasn't that Ron and Birdie hadn't been there, because they had, but Grim understood Rob better. Grim had his own demons he'd conquered, and he seemed to instinctively know what Rob needed when he needed it. Rob had already loved Grim for his steadfast friendship and unwavering support, and while the friendship had been enough, they had also grown to love each other beyond platonic boundaries. After ten years, Rob and Grim's marriage was a Big Mac, two all-beef patties held together with the cheese of friendship-- an easy, warm comfort and familiarity-- and topped with the special sauce of love, a love both mysterious and obvious.  
  
Rob leaned back into his husband's chest, let Grim pull him off and slide his cock against Rob's ass, slow and gentle, the only sounds their short breaths and springtime birds chirping outside their window.  
  
Afterward, Rob kissed Grim's cheek and briefly nuzzled into his neck. Then, they reluctantly rolled out of bed, both crowding into the master bathroom to clean up. They traded off on showers, the stall too small for the two of them to comfortably fit. If they ever moved, Rob wanted a shower big enough for the two of them.  
  
After brushing his teeth, Rob sat on the bed in just his underwear, and texted Grim a grocery list before he forgot he still needed a few things for dinner-- mostly just extra burger condiments like lettuce and pickles. Then, he dressed, pulling on his new red shoes Grim had given as a gift for his birthday last week, before walking down the hall to his son's room to make sure he was awake. The door was cracked, so he peeked in to find Pat on his bed, typing away on his laptop.  
  
Mock gasping, with his hand held theatrically to his heart, he asked, "Is that homework I spy you so seriously working on?"  
  
Pat snorted, and glanced up. "Yeah, dad, I'm schooling some dude right now."  
  
"Nice of you to offer Saturday tutoring," said Rob. "What subject?"  
  
"Hmm?" Asked Pat, distracted. He continued to type for a few seconds and then said, "Oh. Football. Talking about the draft."  
  
Rob had never really been able to get into football, despite his desire to be the pinnacle of American suburban dad-ness. However, Grim was very into the sport and he and Pat had been talking about last week's draft over dinner almost every night since.  
  
"I heard the Titans made good picks," said Rob, mimicking his husband and son's typical nightly conversation.  
  
 Pat looked up from his laptop with an indulgent smile. "That's what they're saying."  
  
They chit-chatted about football for while, Pat trying to explain to him the current upsets in the sports world. He didn't understand it all, but he loved that his son was trying.

Eventually, Grim returned from the store and called out from entry hall, "Hey, boys, come help me put away the groceries."

Pat groaned and rolled over, head hanging upside down off the edge of the bed. "Don't want to get up," he complained.

Rob laughed. Like fathers like son.

"Why don't you take a shower and get dressed," suggested Rob. "Aunt Birdie will be here in a while and we're going to grill."

"Burgers?"

Rob grinned. "Of course."

They had burgers almost every weekend. Managing his burger obsession was easier now, and avoidance was rarely, if ever, a good coping strategy. So, every other Saturday he grilled up just enough burgers for his family and friends, with ingredients he had purchased and not stole.

Rob left his son to his lazy wallowing for a few moments more, and headed downstairs to the kitchen to help Grim out.

"Hey." Grim pressed a kiss to the top of Rob's head as he dropped a bag of groceries on the counter. "Where's Pat?"

"Getting dressed. I figured one of us was enough to help with," he paused to see how much was sitting on the counter, "all three of these bags. What all did you get?"

"Oh, this and that, plus what was on the list."

"Dessert?"

Grim pulled out a box from their favorite bakery. "Apple pie," he said, sounding pleased with himself for remembering dessert when Rob had forgotten to add it to the list. "Now, are you going to unpack, or continue interrogating me?"

Laughing, Rob said, "Oh, I was thinking about just standing here and watching you do all the work." Grim had already unpacked one bag and had started on another. "Leave out the lettuce, onion and tomato. I'm going to go ahead and cut them up."

After unpacking the rest of the groceries, Rob prepared the vegetables and seasoned the beef while Grim started the grill up. While in the middle of forming the patties, the doorbell rang.

"If that's you, Birdie, go ahead and come in," he yelled in the direction of the front door. "If it's not Birdie, then you can just go away, we're not home!"   

"Ha ha," Birdie dryly replied as she stepped into the entry hall. She set her iPad on the island counter and plopped down on a stool.

"And, how are you?" He asked, grinning and smacking a ball of ground beef into shape.

"Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Got a new group of white belts this week and a few of my kids have a tournament next week."

Birdie owned a karate studio downtown. She was a patient and kind teacher and was able to work magic with kids who were gangly or clumsy, kids who'd not felt welcome in other martial arts classes or sports because of their lack of grace. After all, Birdie herself had once been a clumsy girl, but had found her footing with karate training. She tried to help others who had passion find their footing too.   

"Pat's been thinking about trying it out," said Rob.

"Oh?" Birdie asked, sounding excited. She'd been wanting Pat to join her class for years, but until recently, he not shown much interest. "Well, if he wants to come to class next week," she added, "I can make a spot for him with the new group."

Rob smacked another patty together, the sound rhythmic and soothing. "I'll let him know," he said.

"Need patty making tunes?" Birdie asked, bobbing her head slightly to the oddly musical sound of his patty smacking. She idly scrolled through her iTunes library, looking for something. "My Morning Jacket has a new album."

"Nah. I want to actually sit down and listen to that," he answered. "I'm about done here, so you can just put on Pandora or Spotify, if you want."

"Grill is about ready," called Grim from the sliding glass door leading out to the patio. Birdie spun around on her stool, seeking him out.

"Hey, Grim!"

"Birdie!"

Birdie held her arms out and Grim engulfed her in a big hug, lifting her up from her seat as he pulled her much smaller frame toward him. When her feet where back on the floor, he let go and kissed her briefly on the cheek. They always greeted each other so boisterously, and their big displays of affection made Rob so deliriously happy. Loving family and loving friends, this was exactly how he wanted his life.   

Birdie and Grim both moved outside, claiming they wanted to enjoy the nice weather as much as possible before summer hit. It was a tolerable 80 degrees right now, but when June rolled around in a few weeks the thermometer would start climbing in to the 90's and spending extended time outside wouldn't be comfortable.

Rob finished up with his patties, six in total. After washing his hands, he grabbed a spatula and the tray of patties and headed outside. Birdie was sitting at the patio table, scrolling through her iPad again. Pat was already out there,-- must have snuck by Rob when he wasn't looking-- poking the smoldering coals with a stick.

"Careful, with that," Rob cautioned. What was it with kids and fire?  "I'd rather you use tongs if you are spreading them out."    

"Dad already did that," said Pat, pulling the stick out from between the grate and watching the tip smoke.

Rob frowned, but left off the chastisement. "Well, then," he said, setting down the tray, "take your stick and step back, because the grill master has arrived." He held his arms out wide and then flipped his spatula up in the air with a flourish.  

Rolling his eyes, Pat turned and threw his stick across the yard. "We should get a dog," he said with a pout.

"No," shouted Grim from the other side of the yard where he was checking up on his garden. He grew tomatoes and peppers, mostly, but he'd added zucchini and squash this year.

"Awww, dad," whined Pat and Rob in unison. Pat turned to glare angrily at Rob, but Rob just smiled back innocently.  

Birdie snorted out an awkward laugh. "I can see this is an old argument," she added, unhelpfully.   

Ignoring them all, Grim continued to tend to his garden, checking for pests and any ripe vegetables.

"We'll talk him into it eventually," lied Rob. Grim liked dogs well enough, but he just wasn't interested in the responsibility that came with owning one. Rob supposed if he and Pat could convince him that they'd take on all the responsibility, he might concede, but Grim was pretty stubborn. It'd take some masterful persuading to win him over on the "Puppy Problem," as he and Pat referred to it.

It was easier to cook three burgers at a time on a grill the size of theirs, Rob had found. After positioning the patties optimally, he watched them sizzle, enjoying the way the sound and smell of cooking hamburger now brought to mind feelings of love and family as opposed to his dark, desperate obsession. Turning on the old radio he kept near the grill, he twisted the dial to his favorite station, a small studio that played a lot of indie and local artists.

He flipped his spatula around in his hand, a trick he'd taught himself as a way to entertain his son, and then flipped a patty up high. When it landed perfectly back on the grill, Pat said, "That was awesome."

Rob was riding a high from that awesome burger flip, feeling like the coolest suburban dad in the world. He turned up his radio, hoping a great song would come blasting through to keep his good mood going. Instead, it was some commercial. He caught the words "McDonald's new Sirloin Third Pound Burger" too late. "... they're only here for a limited time," said the voice on the radio.

Rob dropped his spatula.

Excitement coursed through him at the thought of a new burger. He had to have them. He had to have all of them. Suddenly he was back to fifteen years ago, sneaking around stealing all the burgers he could get his hands on. His apartment was stacked ceiling high with burgers wrapped in yellow paper, burgers wrapped in white paper, burgers in little boxes and burgers in bags piled in every corner. He could smell the salt and grease and sweetness of rot like he was standing there.   

"Are... are you okay, dad?" Pat asked cautiously.

Closing his eyes, Rob tried to remember to breath. This was 2015, he reminded himself. He tried to focus on the soft breeze ruffling his hair and the sound of the burgers sizzling on the grill.

Someone clicked the radio off.

"Rob, do you need anything?" Grim asked quietly, voice coming from somewhere in front of him.

Rob opened his eyes. Grim and Pat were standing on the other side of the grill, twin looks of concern on their face. Birdie stood to the side of him, next to the radio. She must've been the one to turn it off.

His family. His friends. That's what he needed. Their love kept him strong.

He glanced down at the three burgers on the grill, almost done now.

Those were all the burgers he needed now.

"I've got all I need right here," Rob answered truthfully.   


End file.
